Silver Haze & Green Eyes
by positiveforce
Summary: "I'm going mad, but at least I'm seeing you there." Draco is addicted to seeing visions of his altered past. Harry Potter helps him recover. (Inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, sort of.)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter blah blah blah**

**Warning: There will be mental illnesses/sex/curse words/minor deaths (that you already know of)/ and other traumatizing things in the future.**

**A/N: My fic Misguided Handshake sucked, but I am going to undo it with this long fic, I hope. It's sort of inspired by that fic, though. Hopefully, better since it's been three years? My grammar must've had improved through the long years. This fic is also sort of inspired by Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind, and of course, my love for my OTP.**

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

ooo

_The atmosphere was dull. Draco felt himself floating over weary air. He did not understand why he felt sudden anxiety inside._

He stood there. He was anticipating something important. He didn't know what he was waiting for. All he knew was that he was waiting for someone's response.

He felt a soft grip around his right hand. He felt sudden composure and everything turned clearer. Harry Potter had accepted his friendship.

ooo

All the first years were in awe, while Draco tried hard to look like he'd seen better structures than this excuse of a castle. He tried his best to ignore each painting that literally screamed for his attention.

"You've got to be in Slytherin," he said, smugly, while draping his arm around an enthralled-looking Harry Potter.

"Slytherin?" Harry asked. "But Hagrid said all the bad wizards were there. Wasn't Volde—sorry, You-Know-Who a Slytherin?"

Draco scorned, but composed himself quickly. He wanted to persuade Harry into being in Slytherin with him. He saw Harry as his equal, which was really rare. "Yes, Voldemort was," he said, not planning to deny it.

Draco was sort of glad to see Harry's eyes widen at his mention of the name without fear. He felt like he'd impressed him.

"But what does that oaf, Hagrid, know about bad and good? He doesn't even know how to read," Draco scoffed. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind them.

Draco's statement seemed to turn Harry off, he noticed. So he added, "I tell you, Potter, Slytherin's… well, more exclusive than the others. All the powerful wizards were from Slytherin," hoping to impress the doubtful-looking boy.

"Then I wouldn't be in it, would I?" Harry replied, looking down. "I don't know a thing or two about magic…."

Draco felt weird hearing this from someone like Harry Potter. "You're either born with it or you're not, Potter," he explained smugly. "And I know you are…. It's in your blood," he added, smirking.

Harry smiled. He was pretty sure it was a compliment. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Draco replied quickly while looking away. He felt weird complimenting someone other than himself… and liking the feeling after.

The people around them blurred and all he could hear was stiff silence.

ooo

"SLYTHERIN" a rusty voice cried.

He felt the need to stand up and clap, but something about the atmosphere prevented him from doing so.

He is seated at the Slytherin Table, right. He had already been sorted. It wasn't natural to get excited over little things, being a Slytherin.

But it wasn't a little thing for Draco; Harry Potter had been sorted to Slytherin. Although many Slytherins claimed to have expected it, it still felt like a relief once the Sorting Hat had officially announced. Draco began clapping. Surprisingly, the higher years started clapping too.

All the voices around him, although a bit gloomy compared to the other tables, sounded very pleased. Of course, he heard distant hisses from the far end of the room, the Gryffindor Table.

When Harry Potter sat beside him, the feast began unquestioningly.

The food kept sprouting and sprouting from the plates which kept sprouting and sprouting from the table. The students, the headmasters, and the even the ghosts kept on eating and eating. Draco felt full, he sensed the others did as well, but it did not stop them from finishing their plates which had infinite ends.

Draco's stomach made him woozy, as if he could not eat anymore, but he also could not stop. He could not breathe. He had been taking too much food in him, as well as the others in his table. He would expect this sort of behavior from a Hufflepuff. It embarrassed him.

He managed to look around. Even ghosts and the professors ate in such barbaric behavior. Had they all starved during the summer? Why did Draco seem to be the only one aware of this? Why does he seem like the only one whose stomach is churning and mind is collapsing.

He felt his head falling and crashing toward the plate.

He felt no bump.

He opened his eyes, and darkness filled the room.

ooo

"Draco," someone whispered from the bed beside him. "Draco," the voice whispered again. "Malfoy!" Harry said a bit louder.

Draco scorned, "What is it, Potter? Can't you see I'm sleeping? We have a Potions test tomorrow and we need rest!"

Harry ignored his protests. "I'm going to Hagrid's tomorrow, do you want to come?"

"That's it?" Draco asked, pissed. "That's what couldn't wait 'til tomorrow?"

"Aren't you going to make a speech on how you think Hagrid and Ron and Hermione are the wrong sort or something?"

"Mudbloods and Traitors are coming to The Uneducated Giant's Hut too? What an afternoon delight!" said Draco, his whispers getting louder.

Harry grew accustomed to ignoring Draco's insults about his friends from Gryffindor. He did not like it, but he knew best to ignore it. "I'm surprised Crabbe and Goyle aren't awake with the level of our voices,"

"Their brain is sleeping when they're awake, it's probably dead when they're asleep," concluded Draco.

The two boys shared a laugh before going back to sleep.

Draco wasn't coming.

ooo

Draco opened his eyes. He was standing on grass. Behind him was the castle.

"Snape does not hate you, Potter," Draco said, while walking with Harry down to Hagrid's Hut. "Tell me again, why we're going down to the gamekeeper?" he complained.

"I didn't ask you to come this time, Malfoy," Harry replied. "You followed me."

"Yes, I did. I didn't have anything better to do. Okay?" Draco defended. "I still don't trust those Gryffindors—with their fake heroic portrayal of themselves, they're just plain impulsive. They might brainwash you, you know."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, because they're the cunning house."

"You know what I mean," added Draco.

"I happen to trust them," Harry replied quite fiercely. "I'm not asking you to befriend them, Malfoy; I'm asking you to tolerate my friendship with them."

Draco scoffed. "Well, I don't have a choice, do I?"

Harry knocked once before Hagrid opened the door.

"Hi Hagrid!" Harry beamed.

"Heya thur, Harry!" the giant oaf greeted happily. "Ron en Hermoine's waitin' fer ye inside."

"I brought Malfoy," said Harry. "Is that alright?"

Hagrid's face fell. Who would've known half giants with brains as big as ants had prejudice bones in them? They probably ate a pure blood. "Aye, Heya Malfoy," he said awkwardly to the timid boy standing behind Harry.

"Hello," said Draco, tightly. Hagrid didn't hear him.

"Harry ken I talk te yeh fur a minu'e in private? I got summat priva'e to say."

Harry looked at Draco to see if it was alright. Draco didn't have a choice. "See you later, Potter," he said, threatening to leave

Harry nodded.

"See yeh, Malfoy," Hagrid said before closing the door.

Draco stared at the details of the wooden door. It was a poor excuse of a door. He could easily see what was happening inside through the broken planks.

Granger and Weasley were sitting together side by side, while Harry, of course, had his own seat beside Hagrid who was telling him something.

It must be something important because the oaf's eyes were looking intently into Harry's. All Draco could see into the giant's eyes were strong black pupils, and it secretly scared him. He did not admit this to anyone, but one of his fears was being crushed by the giant. It would be very embarrassing to be out-smarted by a stupid human-hippo.

Draco glanced at the left of the room where he spotted a giant egg being boiled. This egg looked unlike any other eggs he'd ever seen before. If he wasn't smart enough, he'd almost think it to be a Dragon's Egg.

Suddenly, the Gryffindoric lot started laughing alongside Harry. Maybe the conversation's over and they're going to let Draco come in, or better yet, they're going to let Harry leave.

They did neither.

Draco felt like he'd been waiting for hours.

Time felt so long that he'd fallen asleep.

ooo

It was Potions, Draco's favorite subject. Who could hate Potions? It's a subject where you just mix stuff up and Professor Snape is watching. It's almost a free pass.

Surprisingly, that's not what Harry Potter's thinking. "I hate Potions," he whispered toward Draco.

"Are you serious, Potter? How can you hate Potions? It's Snape!" Draco said.

"Exactly," said Harry miserably.

Draco ignored him.

Harry sighed, before looking at the Gryffindor's side, at the bush and orange. Hermione, Ron, and Harry gave each other a knowing look against their professor.

Draco felt angry. It seemed he was losing his friend to those Gryffindors.

ooo

Draco and Harry had been punished for staying up late.

"I mean, it's ridiculous," Draco complained. "The Forbidden Forest is forbidden because you're not stupid and you don't wish to die there, right? But as soon as you do something bad you're punishment is going to the Forbidden Forest. What if I wanted to go to the Forbidden Forest and someone caught me? I'd be punished by—oh, surprise!—going to the Forbidden Forest!"

Harry sniggered. Being in the Forbidden Forest wasn't as bad as Draco thought it would be.

"I guess it was a sensible punishment," Draco continued. "What kind of punishment could I expect from a Gryffindor?"

"Bugger off, Malfoy," snapped Hermione. It was much worse.

"Snape picked our punishment, Malfoy," Harry added. "He agreed to Professor McGonagall's punishment, technically …"

Draco looked at him angrily. "You're one of them."

"I'm not," Harry assured him rather lamely. "Not that—not that there's anything wrong with that, guys."

"Okay," Hagrid finally said. "Le's star' with who's goin' with who."

"Slytherins and Gryffindors," said Draco. "It would only make sense."

"Uh, okay, Malfoy, ye and Harry are goin' toge'er. Yeh get Fang," said the giant, handing Harry the leash. "…since I'm Gryffindor an' all. Cas' red ligh's through yer wand if any of yeh're in trouble, okay?"

Harry nodded. Draco scoffed. They went left while the Gryffindors went right.

"This is your entire fault, Potter! Wait 'til my father hears about this!" Draco said, breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," Harry said annoyingly. "I didn't know you'd follow me."

"I knew there was a Dragon's Egg!"

"You didn't," Harry snapped back. "You said, 'He couldn't possibly have a Dragon's Egg,' before comparing him with another large creature."

Before Draco could reply, Fang started barking. "What the bloody hell is that smell?"

"It's coming from there," Harry said, pointing at the direction Fang was barking at. There seemed to be a white creature lying down a few bushes ahead.

It was a unicorn. It was dying.

Draco screamed, casting red lights above him for Hagrid to see.

"With the rate of your screaming, you don't need to cast red lights, Malfoy," Harry suggested.

"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT OAF?" LET'S LEAVE IT, POTTER! LET'S LEAVE!" Draco begged, pulling Harry's arm, but Harry's feet seemed to be stuck on the ground. Fang seemed to agree with Draco.

"You go ahead," Harry said.

"ARE YOU BLOODY NUTTERS? I'm not leaving you with that thing!"

Harry moved closer.

"Potter!" Draco hissed. "You come back here this instance!"

"Don't worry," Harry said. "Someone seems to be helping it."

The cloaked figure stopped caressing the unicorn. It looked at Harry.

"Potter," Draco said, afraid, but moving closer toward Harry. "Potter, he's got blood all over his mouth. He drank the unicorn's blood!"

"What?" Harry said in disbelief.

"Potter," Draco said, tugging Harry's arm once more. "Let's go."

They started running but the creature was too fast.

Draco and Harry, along with Fang who seems to be leaving them behind, did not stop running. They dared not to look back, but they had to once they've heard a kick. And was that a neigh?

Draco stopped running. "Potter," he said.

"What is it?"

"It's a Centaur."

"What's that?" Harry asked in confusion.

Draco looked at Harry with utter disbelief. How daft is the Muggle World?

"Harry Potter?" the Centaur said.

"I—I'm Harry Potter," Harry stammered.

"I bet even Centaurs know that," Draco commented.

"I'm Firenze. He wants to kill you… He won't be unconscious for long. Let me help you," said the Centaur, offering Harry his back to ride on. "You won't need my help," he turned to Draco.

As Harry left with Firenze, Draco was left alone with Fang.

"Aguamenti," he said. Water spurted out of his wand and toward Fang's face. Fang didn't complain. Draco grunted. "You weren't supposed to enjoy it, you beast."

The forest got unbearably dark again.

ooo

"Here it is," Harry said, pointing at a mirror.

"'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi?'" Draco tried to read the imprints of the frame. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean? I suppose it's not Latin."

"I don't know. I just—I just see my parents every time I'm here," Harry said, getting caught up at the reflection once more. "What do you see?" he asked, changing the topic.

Draco looked at his reflection and Harry's. "I don't get it. I just see our reflections. I don't see my parents."

"It's not supposed to show anyone's parents, it's supposed to—" Harry stopped, not sure exactly how the mirror works.

Draco stared at the reflection. It was like an ordinary mirror to him. "Wait," he told Harry. "The reflection is changing. Is that my—is that my dad?" Harry's reflection got replaced by Lucius Malfoy. "Potter, you're reflection was replaced by my father," he observed happily.

Draco stared at the reflection; Lucius seemed to be patting his back. He looked proud at his son before disappearing. "That was nice," he said. "Quick, but it's still nice. I'm glad you showed me."

"Quick?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"The reflection went back to normal," replied Draco.

"It never showed my reflection alone," Harry said. "My parents were always there. That's all I ever see here."

Draco didn't say anything, but the both of them looked happier in the mirror.

ooo

It was dark. Draco knew he was sleeping—should've been sleeping.

He was awoken by Harry's movements. Draco could not believe his ear's sensitivity. "Potter," he whispered. "Where are you going?"

Harry, unfortunately, couldn't hear a word. He left the common room again.

He couldn't hear him, Draco assured to himself. That was the right answer. He couldn't have ignored him, right?

Draco went back to sleep.

He dreamt about floating with Harry. It was pathetic. He was losing himself in the air and in the unknown darkness, before he felt himself alone.

He opened his eyes.

ooo

Everything looked like a blur. His feet were on the ground; he just knew it. He did not feel his feet or the ground. He felt time move too quickly. At the same time, it felt like it did not move at all. He felt his body idly still, before it pushed him to move.

To run.

ooo

"WHAT HAPPENED?" Draco came barging into the Hospital Wing, screaming at a calm-looking Dumbledore. He was surprised at his own reaction.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy…" Dumbledore said coolly, placing a finger on his lips for silence. "I believe Mr. Potter, as you see, is tired."

Draco looked at Harry, resting placidly on one of the beds. Draco examined Harry's face. The scar wasn't the only mark on his forehead. "He's badly bruised! Of course he's bloody tired!" Soot patches were all over Harry's face. "I knew that mudblood and—"

"Language, my boy!" a young-looking Madam Pomfrey cried from her place. "You happen to be talking to the Headmaster," she added sternly.

"It is okay, Madam Pomfrey. One cannot control one's words when one is in deep fear or worry," Dumbledore assured knowingly.

Madam Pomfrey looked like she wanted to say something before stopping herself, curtly nodding before leaving the two.

"I'm not afraid!" Draco replied, once again, defensively. "I just want to know why he's bruised! I woke up this morning and found him gone! Where did go? I suppose you, of all people, know," he demanded.

"Ah, my boy," Dumbledore said, "What Mr. Potter did here was quite heroic. Of course, it is a secret. However, I ask Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley to help him. I am sure, knowing secrets here at Hogwarts, this secret will come out very soon, and you will hear all about this from your peers…" He added, smiling.

Draco looked at the man with utter disbelief, and added irritably, "Why won't you just tell me then? I can't wait that long. What happened to him? Why is he bruised? Who has hurt him? I bet it was that Mudblood and Traitor's—" Draco was used to this language with his friends and family, he felt careless tossing it in front of the Headmaster.

"Please, Mr. Malfoy…" Dumbledore replied, hiding the fierceness in his voice, "we do not tolerate rude name-calling in Hogwarts. I am sure if your friend, Mr. Potter here, knew what you called his friends; he would be very offended, indeed."

"Granger? Weasley?" Draco jeered. "His friends? He—"

"He would've told you, if you never felt ill towards them in the first place," Dumbledore replied. "I sense jealousy, Mr. Malfoy. I'm sure Harry has enough kindness to be friends with anyone from any lot, I assume."

Draco had already known before. He just couldn't accept it.

"Now, would you like a bean from Bertie Bott's?" he offered one.

"I'm not jealous," Draco continued, not looking at the man.

Albus Dumbledore smiled at him. "You knew they were friends. The sooner you accept it, the happier you would be," he added.

Draco thought Dumbledore was a complete nutter, he was screaming and shouting at him, and all the Headmaster could do was smile? He felt sick, those blue eyes gleaming at him like it could see through.

"It's not a happy thought though, is it?" Draco continued on. "You're bestfriend in the whole world doesn't think of you as his best friend? He prefers a different lot. A lot you despise."

"Prejudice," Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Malfoy, is—"

"Not tolerated at Hogwarts, I know," said Draco. "It's just hard. I should've been the one helping Harry. Why didn't he ask me?"

"Maybe you weren't the right person, but Harry would've appreciated your effort, Mr. Malfoy. You're a great friend, I'm sure. Jealousy just gets in your way."

"I can't help it…" Draco said.

Dumbledore didn't say anything in return.

"Can I stay?" Draco asked, looking at Harry peacefully sleeping. "Wait for him to wake up, I mean." He explained.

Dumbledore sighed, "It might take a long time before he wakes up… Don't you want to watch the Final Quidditch Match? I hear Slytherin will give my old house, Gryffindor, a run for their Galleons." He chuckled.

"No. Not really." Draco replied; his tone was softer than before. "I should stay here."

Dumbledore stood up. "Okay, goodbye, Mr. Malfoy."

"Wait," the boy cried. "I've been hearing things."

"Ah, hearing things that aren't sounds is dangerous," Dumbledore replied quickly.

"Is it true though, what I've been hearing? Voldemort came back and he was one of the professors all along?"

"Well," the old man paused. "Perhaps rumours spread as quickly, but more far-fetched as before. As Headmaster, I do not wish to confirm nor deny said rumours. I don't think it would be fit for you to hear it from me, Mr. Malfoy."

As Dumbledore nodded, leaving him alone beside Potter's sleeping body, the room seemed to have disappeared.

ooo

The room reappeared again.

Harry woke up.

It felt like days.

Maybe it was.

It didn't matter.

"Malfoy," Harry said.

"Was it true, Potter?" Draco asked the moment Harry stood up. "You defeated Voldemort again?"

Harry nodded.

"Who was helping him?"

"Professor Quirrel," Harry said flatly. "I thought it was Snape, but it was Quirrel."

"Oh," was all he could reply before helping his friend up.

ooo

The Great Hall appeared. Green filled the room. Despite Gryffindor's close points, Slytherin reigned victorious in the year's House Cup.

The Slytherins gloated.

_Draco and Harry smiled._

xxx

"Mr. Malfoy?"

_"I knew he wasn't evil."_

"Mr. Malfoy."

_"I knew it the moment—what?"_

"Mr. Malfoy?" a woman's voice called.

Draco opened his eyes. A ray of light seemed to be flashing his face. The Potion wore off. Draco regained consciousness.

"Your time's up. That would be ten galleons," said the Divination's Artist, Martha Mankins.

"Already?"

Martha nodded. "You have to stop crying, honey. It makes me nervous. Tears are one of my potion's side-effects. It might cause sore eyes."

"I didn't get very long," said Draco. "Usually I—" he stopped, unable to share what the Reverberum makes him see.

The Reverberum is a potion Mirabelle Mankins, great-great grandmother of Martha Mankins, conjured in the late 1800s. It helps you fall into a deep hallucination of moments from the past, but with one thing altered.

Many customers have fallen addicted to the potion, wishing to change the choices they had made or other people had made for them. It results their mind and body to crave for the life that the potion holds. . Many customers are currently staying at St. Mungo's; that's why it's illegal. However, Mankin's business had always been on the second corner to the right in Knockturn Alley… for eighty years. There's no stopping this family business.

Many people alter the broomstick they bought or the question they've answered(—a no, instead of a yes—)but for Draco Malfoy, it was always altering Harry Potter's choice. It was always about Potter accepting his hand.

"Are you sure? It depends on what you focus on, dear. Avoid focusing on too much details, it tends to drain out the liquid's capacity on holding altered time."

"I can't help it. It feels so real."

Martha smiled. "That's why you're always coming back. Want to live hundreds of alternate lives, you do," she joked.

Draco didn't say anything. It was just one altered life.

It was the life he wanted.

"Would you ike some more?" Martha asks before the potion stopped brewing. The bubbles turned a light blue color.

Draco nodded before gulping the glass and closing his eyes.

* * *

**Thank you. Reviews are very much appreciated.**

**A/N: I wanted it to be sort of like a Pensieve, the Reverberum, but it just wouldn't have much effect in the future chapters if it was Pensieve-like.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: If you haven't noticed, the dividers (xxx or ooo) actually mean something. I was thinking of deleting my past fic relating to this one, because people might get the wrong idea of it ending the same way. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. This gives me Chamber of Secrets to Goblet of Fire feels.**

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**Chapter 2:**

ooo

"_Who do they think they are anyway?" Draco complained while entering Diagon Alley. "They're a Mudblood and Scum-sucker! They're also Gryffindors! Why do they get to fight You-Know-Who with Harry Potter?" he added._

"Hush, Draco," hissed Lucius, his father. "We are not in Knockturn Alley anymore; many aren't accustomed to what we call certain lots like the Weasleys or that Granger girl."

Draco apologized before drabbling on. "I mean, I bet I could have guessed the spell for Devil's Snare faster than that Granger; mother has told me that a hundred times. It's not really hard," he boasted. "Harry thinks she's so great and that Weasley fellow's so brave. They weren't the ones who faced Professor Quir—"

"Shut it, Draco, really!" Lucius said, hitting his son lightly with his cane. Leaning in closer to his son, he began to whisper, "Not everyone is ready for the Dark Lord's return so do shut up about that, my boy."

Draco nodded.

"And I've heard your stories a hundred times, Draco," Lucius continued. "Do try to compose yourself when you're talking about that Potter boy? You almost sound embarrassingly in love with him."

"Yes, father," replied Draco obediently as he rubbed his shoulder where the cane had hit him. "And I'm not in love with him."

"Isn't that your Potter friend right there?" asked Lucius, pointing at a messy-haired boy in front of Flourish & Blotts. "I'd like to meet him."

Harry was standing beside a girl who couldn't stop staring at him, it was almost disgusting. She had freckles, red-hair, and a ghastly look on her face that says 'spare me some Knuts'—must be a Weasley.

"Why hello there, Mr. Potter," said Draco's father, almost surprisingly welcoming. "Draco has told me so much about you," he said, like it didn't make his ears bleed.

"Oh, hello sir," said Harry shyly. "Hey Mal—Draco," he said once Draco appeared behind Lucius.

"Whose you're fan there, Potter?" asked Draco, eyeing the little dewy eyed girl who couldn't pay attention to anyone but Harry._ "Another_ Weasley? Really?"

"Yes," answered Harry cautiously. "Ginny, Ron's sister."

"Well, Mr. Potter," interrupted Lucius, looking intently at Harry's forehead. "Draco told me you've been staying with the Weasleys?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry awkwardly.

"Where is the lot?" said Lucius.

"Mr. Weasley and Ron are inside. We got out because it was too crowded," explained Harry, still uneasy with Lucius Malfoy's presence.

"How could it be crowded when you aren't there?" asked Draco. Lucius coughed. Draco's pale cheeks burned.

"Gilderoy Lockhart," Harry explained, blushing.

Arthur Weasley, along with Ron, stepped out from the bookshop. "It's a jungle in there, Harry!" shouted a sweating Ron. "A lot of girls were swooning over Lockhart, I'm surprised you left, Ginny, since you're also a fan and—" Ron turned to a sneering Malfoy. "Oh, _he's_ here," grunted Ron.

"Good day, Lucius," said Arthur.

"Good day, indeed, Arthur," replied Draco's father. "Digging in deep for the discounted books, I see?"

Arthur Weasley's cheeks turned red. Draco tried his best not to laugh.

"Harry Potter and I were just chatting," continued Lucius, "I was thinking, why don't he stay with us until the first of September?"

"Really?" said Draco and Harry at the same time with different reactions.

"Why not?" Lucius asked. "Draco's been missing his best friend over the summer, and I've heard what the Muggles did—oh, the torture."

"Not all of them are like that, Lucius," said Arthur. It disgusted Draco how someone could even defend an atrocious lot. Then again, he was a Weasley.

Lucius laughed. "Oh, I'm sure they aren't," he mocked. "So what do you say, Harry?"

Harry took a long moment to reply.

It angered Draco that his friend even considered how Ron Weasley would feel, glancing at him before saying, "Yeah, why not?"

oxo

The holidays leading up to the first of September felt like a blur. All he knew was he was happy.

ooo

Right beside Draco, the Quidditch Pitch formed.

It was awfully larger than what Draco remembered, although he did not seem to have commented on that.

"Thanks, Malfoy." Harry said shyly, his voice deeper than before. He was catching up to him while holding a new Nimbus Two-thousand and One.

"Yeah, yeah…" Draco said. "Now kindly shut up, Potter," he drawled. "I've heard you talk so many times about how remarkable I am, it's making me sick."

Harry laughed. He knew all too well that Draco Malfoy was in love with flattery. "Right, thanks," he teased.

Draco shook his head before looking away; his lip was curling.

As they stepped into the other corner of the pitch, they saw the group of Slytherins.

"Hey Flint!" Draco yelled.

A rough-looking man turned toward Draco's direction. "Ah, Perfect…" Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team, said, checking the list. "Malfoy, Potter, positions?"

"Seeker," said both Harry and Draco at the same time.

Flint scoffed, "Oh, too bad," he added, enjoying the mortified faces of the two boys. "You see, we only have room for one—"

"We know how the bloody game works!" Draco said, gritting his teeth. He sighed loudly, before saying, in a very low voice that almost no one could hear, "Beater."

"Sorry?" Flint asked.

"Are you deaf?" Draco shouted at the Slytherin Captain, who looked like he was trying his best to compose himself. "I said I'll be a bloody Beater! That way I can hit those bloody scum-suckers legally…" he added while drilling his broomstick down the patch of soil. The other players looked at him, bewildered at his slight act of kindness.

Marcus, who seemed doubtful, did not dare protest. Draco's body clearly wasn't built for a Beater.

Harry noticed Flint's pissed expression. "I," he started nervously, "I… could try for Chaser… I guess. I mean, I guess Draco would make a better Seeker than me since he knows more about—"

"Shut it, Potter!" interrupted Draco. "I'm a Beater. You're going to be a Bloody Seeker, you got that?"

Harry could see he was annoyed. He tried to protest, "I-it's really not a problem—"

"No," Draco opposed. "You're better," he said through gritted teeth as if giving another compliment would kill him.

He turned to Flint, "Aren't we going to practice or wait for your bloody balls to pop?"

"Yes. Okay." Flint said, as he held his whistle. "Oy!" He turned to the other members, "Practice, now!"

"Wait," Harry said, looking puzzled. "We… we made it? There are no tryouts?"

Flint shook his head avoiding eye-contact. Harry noticed him gripping his Broom tightly, it looked new, and it was also a Nimbus Two-thousand and One.

As Flint blew the whistle, the screeching sounds diverged with roars that drummed in Draco's ears and tickled his tongue?

ooo

Draco was in the Hospital Wing hugging a huge bucket. He felt sick and suddenly a slimy creature seemed to wriggle in his mouth. He began to vomit slugs out.

"Better out than in," Madam Pomfrey said as she watched the paling boy puke.

"IF I GET—" A slug came out, "—MY HANDS AROUND—" The slug seemed to be smaller than the previous one, "—THAT WEASLEY. HE'S GOING TO—" The slug seemed to have missed the bucket.

"You shouldn't have done that, Malfoy…" Harry said while patting Draco's back, helping him put out the slugs.

"Do what?" Draco asked defensively. Seven slimy slugs were crawling on the bucket, making Draco vomit two slugs out.

"Two in one, good job," congratulated Harry before explaining. "You called Hermione a _Mudblood_."

Draco managed to sneer, before another slug tickled his throat. "It's true, isn't it?" he said when the slug shot straight through the bucket.

"That was really rude," Harry explained.

Draco scoffed, "No, it's not. It's the truth. She's dirty blood. Why should she hide it when it's as obvious as the fact that there are actual living creatures in her hair?"

"But she was hurt," Harry added.

Draco rolled his eyes while another slug rolled inside his mouth. "Why the bloody hell are you so nice to them, Potter?"

"Well," Harry started, "they helped me stop _Voldemort _getting the Sorcerer's Stone and all…"

"And all?" Draco jeered. "That _is_ _all_ they've done. _I_ could've helped you light a wand, solve a riddle and play chess too. It's not that hard."

Harry felt guilty, "But Dumbledore—"

"Oh please…" Draco stood. "If you'd rather be friends with Blood-traitors and _Mudbloods"("—Oy," warned Madam Pomfrey.)_"—Fine."

Draco left the Hospital Wing, assuming he was cured from slug-barfing.

As he slammed the Hospital Wing door shut. His eyes felt misty.

ooo

Draco happened to be standing on the Slytherin table. All eyes seemed to be on him. "Silence please," he commanded in the Great Hall. Glancing quickly if there were any Professors, he was safe. (Professor Snape seemed to be buried under The Daily Prophet).

"Now, I've heard a lot of you talking about my friend, Potter, lately," said Draco, lingering on top of the long table like it was an appropriate platform to contemplate on. "And as I am used to the attention he always seems to be getting…" Harry seemed to blush at what Draco said, "I am not happy with what I am hearing."

"Justin," Draco called, looking at the Hufflepuff table.

A smug-looking boy was startled.

"Is it true that you heard Potter command a snake to _attack_ you?" Draco asked as if it was such a ridiculous question.

"You saw him!" Justin said defensively. "He was commanding the snake to bite me! Right?" He turned to the other Hufflepuffs who nodded in agreement.

Draco sneered, "Oh, really?" he asked in mock. "You heard him _say_ that?"

"Yes," Justin replied through shaky voice.

Harry wanted to hide under the table. He was mortified at the two boys debating about him. He felt like he was on some kind of jury.

"What exactly did Potter say then?" Draco asked sternly at the Hufflepuff.

_"I don't know!"_ Justin replied. "He was speaking snake, wasn't he? Who do you suppose would understand that except the _Heir of Slytherin_?" His finger was pointing at Harry.

"You stupid arse!" Draco yelled.

Everyone seemed to gasp. They looked at Snape who seemed to have heard nothing.

"Didn't Potter here," he looked towards Harry's direction, his head seemed to be closer to the ground, "…tell you he was trying to stop the snake?"

"It didn't look like it," a Hufflepuff girl added. "The snake moved closer!"

"Kindly shut it, Ms. Abbott." Draco said, before he continued, "Since when did snakes turn obedient?

"And do you really think that Harry here," he signaled everyone to look at Harry. "…who wouldn't hurt a Billywig, even if you bloody ask him to, would want to hurt his fellow students, no matter how big of a git—" he turned to Justin who looked furious, "—they are?"

"B-but…." Justin added, shakily, trying to think of a way to support himself.

"But nothing," Draco cleared. "Now, I suggest all of you, not just Mr. Finch-Filthy Mud—"

Snape coughed loudly signaling Draco to silence.

"Not just Mr. Finch-Fletchley over here. But every git who spread lies about Harry Prancing Potter to say sorry, and bow down to—what is it, Potter?" Draco asked, noticing Harry pulling his robes.

"That's enough," Harry said blushing. "Thanks," he added quickly, "Really."

"Shut it. I'm making a speech," Draco replied. "Now, as I was saying," he turned back to the bemused crowd, "You—"

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco looked stunned. Professor McGonagall came in with her hands on her waist, and her already sharp face even sharper.

"Did it occur to you that the thing you are standing on is not the floor?" she said.

"Yes, Professor. I'm sorry," Draco said quickly, not meaning it.

"Go back to your seat. Your classmates are eating, for Merlin's sake," she added before taking a seat at the Professor's table.

"They didn't seem to mind," muttered Draco, claiming a seat beside Harry. "Parseltongue's cool, actually," he said.

Harry nudged him, and smiled, forgetting their fight earlier at the Hospital Wing.

After few minutes of silence, the room turned foggy once again, and he suddenly felt a jealous feeling inside him.

ooo

As the sight began to clear, he saw Albus Dumbledore smiling broadly at another bruised Harry, who was arm in arm with a bloody Weaselette.

Before he could paint out what he was seeing, he had awoken.

ooo

"Malfoy, why are you sleeping?" asked Harry with a much deeper voice than before.

"I don't know, Potter," Draco said, annoyed. "Maybe I happen to be sleepy? I, unlike all your other fans, am not interested in listening to your every word."

Harry laughed. "But you're not one of my fans. I don't think you even like me sometimes," he joked.

"Very true," said Draco.

"You're my friend though," he added.

"Oh Merlin, stop, Potter, I'm blushing," teased Draco, lips curling. "Let me sleep. You owe me one."

"Since when did I owe you one?" Harry asked, baffled, but still smiling.

"You freed Dobby! Father was _furious!_" said Draco. "You owe me a House Elf. Now let me sleep."

"Oh, okay. I'll buy you a Butterbeer or something," said Harry, ignoring Draco's scoff(—"House elves cost a hundred Butterbeers!"), he continued, "So what do you think?"

"Think about what?" Draco asked.

"The thing we were talking about before you dozed off," explained Harry.

"Oh, Cho Chang," Draco drawled. He didn't like Cho Chang. If you asked him, she wasn't even that pretty. Her named sounded like choking, which he wished had happened to her. Harry could do so much better. "I prefer purebloods."

"I don't," Harry replied. "But do you think she touched my hand on _purpose_?"

Draco hadn't noticed, of course. He was too busy aiming the Bludger at her. "You're both Seekers, Potter, you reached for the _Snitch_," he explained.

"But she smiled," said Harry.

"If I smile at you, does that mean I'm in love with you?" Draco inquired.

"I don't know," said Harry. "You never actually smiled at me," he trailed off, laughing.

"Oh, yes I do, Potter," Draco added begrudgingly. "My smile is beautiful! It's a shame you don't notice it." Joking about Draco's smile was better than talking about _Cho Chang_.

"Oy," drawled Blaise. "Will you two lovebirds shut it? Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Prat," mumbled Draco loud enough for that new Zabini kid to hear. Ron and Hermione were enough distractions for Harry, Draco thought. His friend does not need a know-it-all Ravenclaw. That was Granger's job.

"Who do you like, Malfoy?" asked Harry.

"I don't know. Definitely not Zabini," Draco joked. "I haven't met the right Slytherin yet."

"Does it have to be a Slytherin?" Harry asked.

"Yes," replied Draco.

"There are lots of beautiful girls here, but your option's sort of narrow, my friend," said Harry.

"Must not be picky on gender then, should I?" replied Draco before he hurried back to sleep, ignoring Harry's protests to talk about it.

"Malfoy?" said Harry, but Draco didn't answer. "_Malfoy! Malfoy! Malfoy!_"

"For heaven's sake, Draco!" cried Blaise. "Answer him before he pulls out a _Sonorus charm_!—Silencio!" he said, casting a force field for him to stay immune to the sound of Harry and Draco's conversation.

"What?" hissed Draco.

"You didn't tell me you're bisexual!" complained Harry.

"You obviously haven't been reading my memoir," Draco joked. "I'm not sure, Potter. Does it matter, really?"

Harry paused. "No," he said. "I guess not."

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Draco."

oxo

Warmth wrapped his entire body. Draco opened his eyes. He was lying down cold floor. It was dark. He seemed to be wrapped inside a sleeping bag.

"Malfoy," Harry whispered beside him. "I'm scared," he says.

Draco could not see where he was. The moon outside the window seemed to be the only source of light. "Don't be. I thought you said you wanted revenge," he whispered back.

"I do, really, I do, but Black seems dangerous. How did he manage get in?"

"Malfoy, Potter, silence," warned Snape nearby.

"I don't know," was all Draco could whisper as he felt a soft grip. _"None of this is real anyway_—What?" Draco opened his eyes again, surprised at what he said. "What did I say?" he asked Harry.

"You said you didn't know," replied Harry bewildered.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Draco felt he said something else. He was lying on the Great Hall in a sleeping bag. That's all he needed to know, he told himself before dozing off.

He felt someone gingerly kick his leg; it was Pansy.

_Morning came like a blink of an eye. _That happens often in sleep, right?

The sun was now reflecting Pansy's annoyingly sharp face. "You've been cozy with Potter, I see," she said, giggling.

_Draco twitched._

He looked at his right hand that's beside Potter's left. They seemed to have held hands while sleeping, _but_ _Draco didn't feel himself moving at all in his sleep._

"Where's everyone?" Draco asked, sitting up.

"Don't worry. Only _everyone_ saw. Inseparable mates, the two of you, yeah?" Pansy added jokingly.

"Shut it, Parkinson," Draco said, covering his face under the sleeping bag, blushing.

As Draco buried himself under the sheets, everything seemed cool. He felt himself drifting away.

oox

He was standing still.

"Her again?" Draco complained at another bruised looking Potter.

"She had a Time-turner," Harry explained. "But that's alright," he added excitedly. "Sirius escaped. He's safe! Somewhere with Buckbeak—"

"That bloody chicken?" Draco complained. "Why didn't you tell me, Potter? I could've helped."

"Do you have a Time-turner?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco replied angrily.

"Then how are we supposed to go back in time then?"

Harry explained, "Hermione was the only student who had one, okay, Malfoy?" He looked at his pale mate who was shivering in the cold, "Stop being jealous."

"Who said I was fucking jealous?" Draco shouted ferociously before softening his tone, "For your information, other scholars have time-turners as well.

"I want to help you, Potter! I really do. I'm your best mate!"

He added, "Why does it seem like I'm more useless than those Gryffindors? They seem to always save your life. And I'm just here, late, because well, I'm not meant to be there."

His voice was shaking, "Am I supposed to act like nothing has bloody happened? Those bloody Dementors almost got you, and I didn't know!"

Harry felt guilty for his sulky friend, "I promise," he began. "Next time, when I'm in danger," he looked straight at the sad boy's eyes, "I'll ask you for help. Even if Hermione or Ron is dangling the answers in front of me, okay?"

Draco shook his head. "Nevermind, you wouldn't fulfill that promise," he said stiffly.

"You're wrong," Harry said. _"None of this is real, Malfoy."_

_The cold air made his head throb._ "What?" Draco asked.

"I said you're wrong. I will ask for your help. You're my best mate," Harry explained.

_Lucius was going to be the next problem because Voldemort was coming back and Draco already knew then._

xox

Draco's eyes opened. He twitched again.

He's back at the Reverberum Parlor; Martha Mankin was entertaining a different customer. "Nice to see you, Roger," she said.

"It's too soon," Draco told himself, forcing himself to shut his eyes again. It didn't work that way, he knew one bottle was equivalent to one year, but he was desperate.

He couldn't leave Harry.

Harry promised he'd need him.

He shut his eyes tight.

It worked.

oxo

"_Potter," Draco hissed. "How the bloody hell did you put your name in the goblet of fire?"_

"If you were any calmer, you'd sound like Dumbledore," snapped Harry.

"How'd it bloody get in there? Crabbe has been trying to—"

"I didn't put my name in there!" Harry said.

"Good," Draco said. "Because you'd be a bloody git if you did."

"_The usual hour, Mr. Steinberg?" asked Martha, boiling at her usual stall._

"What are you looking at, Malfoy?" asked Harry, looking over his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" asked Draco, twitching.

"You believe me?" asked Harry.

"Of course I do," Draco said. "You're Saint Potter," he added, laughing.

Harry smiled. "Nice of you to," he said. "Ron, on the other hand, is furious."

"He's jealous, of course, he's also poor—both obvious, really," Draco concluded.

"_Good day, Mrs. McCartney, the usual?" greeted Martha._

oox

Draco was surprised by a bright flash.

"Oh, hello, my boy," said Rita Skeeter beside the wrinkled-looking photographer.

"And you are?" she asked as she smirked. "The boyfriend of Ms. Fleur Delacour, I presume?" she suggested, lifting her Quick-Quotes Quill.

"Ugh, no, a friend of Harry Potter, actually," Draco replied dully.

"Oh," Rita said teasingly, "Just a friend?"

"Yes," Draco snapped; he didn't like admitting it himself. "Now, if you excuse me, I have to go," he said while pushing the writer aside.

"_Even with Reverberum, he's rude!"_

"Potter!" Draco cried as he caught sight of Harry who was sporting an anti-flammable suit. "Are you bloody mental?" he screamed, "A dragon? _A dragon? _You expect yourself to fight a _Dragon_?"

"Just steal his egg," Harry said.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Potter," Draco said peevishly. "Really, don't. Can't you just trick someone else to do it for you? They don't have to know it's not you. G-Goyle, he's dumb enought to—"

"That won't work," Harry said. "Sorry, Malfoy, the Goblet chose me," he added shakily.

Draco hissed, "You have enough stories to tell when you're older—_if _you get older—this isn't worth it." He looked straight at Harry, sudden panic in his face; he looked like he was going to burst with pain, "I need to tell you—"

"What? _Last time with Reverberum, you told me a bit earlier—_what?" Harry asked while the adrenaline and roars of the crowd outside excited him.

"This isn't the right time. But—ugh, fine," Draco sighed before muttering, "I—don't do this to me, Potter, you know; you're smart enough to—_You're supposed to know what I'm going to say since this isn't real."_

"_No, I'm not,"_ said Harry.

"_What? _Fine," Draco started, palms sweating. "I think I'm seeing you differently," he admitted.

"_Apart from a figment of the potion's hallucination, you mean_—What?" Harry stopped, forgetting what he just said. "What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"I think I—" Draco stuttered. He had never stuttered before. "I think I fancy you, Potter." Admitting it felt like a pierce in Draco's chest.

Harry stared at him. _"About time you tell me," he said._ "What?"

"_I don't understand. How am I conscious?_ Now isn't the time for awkward silences, Potter." Draco added, losing the tension. "Thought you ought to know before—just, don't over-do it. I heard You-Know—"

"Malfoy!" Mad-Eye Moody came, barging. "Why are you here? Get out!" He shoved Malfoy aside, "Students who aren't competing aren't allowed in this tent!" Professor Moody pulled him out.

"_What do you mean it's 10 galleons?" asked Roger. "The Goblins didn't say anything about price hike!" he complained._

"_I'm a Divination author, Steinberg, I know they will," said Martha's voice in _Alastor Moody's_ face._

"What?" Draco asked, perplexed.

"Did you hear me, Malfoy, or do I have to turn you into a ferret again?" said Mad-eye Moody. "Do I have to repeat myself? I told you countless times; don't tell Potter what your father's been telling you, son."

Draco nodded.

As he left the tent, it vanished behind him.

oox

Draco was looking at the Black Lake, watching his friend, Harry Potter, struggle to help an unconscious Ron Weasley.

"Pathetic," whispered Zabini beside him. _"Even in your hallucinations, you aren't the person Potter would miss most?"_

Something about the roar of the crowd or the fog of the lake made Draco's head twinge. "What?"

"It's just pathetic, right?" continued Blaise. "Viktor Krum would miss a Mudblood, whom he just met, the most? And it isn't just any Mudblood, it's Granger!"

Draco nodded in agreement, scoffing at the thought.

_Harry currently misses Ron the most because they've had a fight_, Draco assured himself.

oxx

He was standing stiff in front of himself, well-dressed than usual.

Draco was wearing a fancy green cloak in front of the mirror.

"Sharp," Harry commented as he entered the Slytherin Common Room.

Draco smiled at the sight of the boy. He looked exceptionally beautiful. "Better get going," Draco muttered, "Pansy's quite impatient."

"Why couldn't we just pick best mates to be our date in this bloody ball?" Harry added.

Draco agreed. Although the both of them knew one of them fancied the other one.

"Daphne might step on my foot or something. She's a bit clumsy," Harry joked. "Wish I could've asked you, instead."

Draco scoffed, "Shut it, Potter." He smiled, looking away, before his cheeks swell with gush. "Let's go."

As Draco pushed the Common Room Dungeon Door open, _the wind felt like sweeping him away coolly._

Then something around his waist was guiding him through movements and music.

Draco was dancing in the center with the fairies lighting the room. He was lost in gazing at Harry Potter.

"Pretty odd, two blokes dancing and all," Draco commented, but both of them knew he was happy.

Harry smiled, _"None of this is real, Malfoy."_

"_Oh dear," Draco heard Martha say. "He's terribly sweating."_

_He tried his best to ignore her. He shut his eyes._

"Who cares what they think?" said Harry.

"_I'm the only one thinking here," thought Draco. "It's my hallucination."_

_Harry's face vanished as well as the Yule Ball. Martha Mankin's shop reappeared._

_Martha Mankin's shop disappeared._

_Harry was still holding him._

_Harry Potter was kissing him? This is too soon, Draco thought. Their lips met, and Draco felt nothing but cold air._

_Draco's eyes darted open. His head was aching, his heart was throbbing, and his body was still shaking._

In that moment, he was aware.

xox

Draco felt his body shifting. He tried to fight the force, but his body seemed uncontrollable. Someone was actually _carrying_ him. His eyes darted open.

"He's awake," said one man who resembled Harry Potter in a healing cloak.

The other man, the one holding him, shifted to look at him. "Nicholas Dowlish, sir," he told Draco who was too tired to scowl. "We're taking you to St. Mungo's."

Draco was still twitching.

* * *

**A/N: This is where the fun in Draco's hallucinations begin. Thank you for reading. I'd love and appreciate a review! I'd also appreciate a beta reader but I don't know how they work? :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I've been having a hard time dividing the chapters. I think my updates might be longer than usual, but I appreciate you guys sticking with me!**

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

xox

Reverberums were illegal for a reason; Draco ignored that fact.

Reverberums were illegal for a reason. Now, Draco was experiencing those reasons.

**1.) Bipolar Hallucinations**

Reverberum liquid gave you dreams so vivid that you thought it were real until the very last drop. Once your stomach had digested all the liquid and its component, you wake up right away.

Overdosed, the potion's components spread in you and make home in your organs, causing you to never stay fully awake, giving you uncontrollable hallucinations in real life.

Draco Malfoy saw Harry Potter apparating him to St. Mungo's. "Don't resist the twitching, Draco," advised Harry, worried. "It would only make it worse."

The Reverberum would substitute a person interacting with you in the real world with a person interacting with you in your dreams.

"Blimey," said another Harry Potter, watching the man who was actually carrying Draco, Nicholas Howlish. "Isn't Malfoy heavy, Howlish?"

Howlish ignored Harry Potter.

Howlish couldn't see Harry Potter.

Sometimes the hallucination appeared from thin air.

Harry nudged Draco. "Look, you look like a mess there," he said, pointing at the twitching Draco Malfoy.

A much healthier Draco looked at his shaking self. "What happened to me?" he asked, disgusted at himself.

Sometimes the Reverberum made you see younger versions of yourself.

oxx

"_You have to lose," Draco told Harry. "Don't touch the trophy."_

Harry shrugged. "You're such a supportive mate, Draco."

"_Harry, I'm serious."_

xox

The two hallucinations that took the form of Harry and Draco disappeared when Howlish and the real Draco entered St. Mungo's backdoor.

**2.) Uncontrollable Twitching**

The components of the Reverberum flew through your fibres, tissues, and nerves, causing your muscles to contract uncontrollably—same effects of overdosing in Sleeping Potions, a potion present in Reverberums.

Howlish carefully placed Draco in one of the levitating beds. "Shit," he said when Draco began to fall.

Howlish summoned Draco from the floor to the bed. Draco was aware of this and was too weak to protest. Howlish casted a fence charm to prevent him from falling again.

"Oi," he called to one of the Healers.

A blond lady wearing a white cloak moved near him. "Another one this month?" she hissed.

"You know people can't resist it," explained Howlish, embarrassed.

"Your sister needs to stop this business! One day the Ministry's going to find out you've been helping her and they're not just going to take your right as an Auror, Nico; they're going to take you're right as a citizen," the healer warned. "This is just one ticket to Azkaban," she said, referring to Draco's shaking body.

"Come on, Kimberly," Howlish pressed. "You're still going to help him, aren't you?"

Kimberly sighed, "Of course I am."

Kimberly rushed to the emergency room; the bed that carried Draco followed her.

"What's happening to him?" asked one of the Healers.

Kimberly shrugged. "Draught of Deep Slumber Potion," she lied.

Aside from the Mankin's, no one knew what all the components in a Reverberum were, exactly. After years of research, Draught of Deep Slumber had the most compatible ingredients.

Draco was now aware that he's terribly ill. It didn't stop him from wanting to sleep again.

_…and now you've torn it quite apart_  
_I'll thank you to give me back my heart!_

oxo

_All he heard were faint music from the hospital's reception room. The noise dropped to trumpet's music._

The Quidditch Pitch formed, but the rings were gone and the grass grew into a giant maze. It was the last TriWizard Tournament and Harry had not shown up yet.

Draco felt nervous. He had to remind himself that this wasn't real to calm him down, but that thought only made him more upset.

_He's alive_, he told himself. _You know that, you git._

The uncertainty in his memory made him reject reality. It was possible Harry had died. _It was possible,_ Draco thought.

Harry's last memory could have been Lucius standing there, watching him die.

_But this wasn't real_, Draco told himself, losing grip that it wasn't.

"Draco?" Pansy asked, her _CEDRIC STINKS_ badge glowing. "Are you alright?"

Draco nodded, but didn't meet her eyes. Pansy was one of the people who didn't have Death Eater parents or any Death Eater family members for that matter.

She didn't know.

"Don't worry," she offered. "You're boyfriend's fine, just… _really_ daft at solving those riddles. If it were me up there, I'd be out in like ten minutes."

"He's not my boyfriend," Draco scoffed, but appreciated Pansy's efforts to cheer him up. He was amused, "I bet you will."

He wasn't sure if Harry was coming back alive. And if he were, what would he think of Draco?

Fifteen more minutes had passed.

Draco's stomach began to lurch.

He had imagined Harry dead. He had imagined Cedric coming back with Harry's dead body. He had imagined Harry dying with the thought of Draco helping it happen because Lucius—the man Draco looked up to—was there.

"Draco!" Pansy called, concerned but also amused. "You're not crying, are you?"

_Real memories clashed in Draco's mind._

_He remembered confining himself inside the Slytherin Boys' Dormitory when the third TriWizard Tournament was happening. He couldn't take it. He couldn't handle knowing what awaited Potter in the maze._

"_I can't handle it," he told Crabbe who was fiddling with his POTTER STINKS badge. Crabbe only glanced up at him before distracting himself again._

"_What do you mean, mate?" Goyle asked. "Don't you want to see the look on their faces when Potter comes back dead?"_

_Draco tried to hide his disgust, pushing a smirk in his face. "I would, Gregory, I would," he said, trying to convince himself. "But that would involve actual patience. I wouldn't want to waste my time and efforts on Potter alive or d-dead," he said before storming off._

_He remembered himself punching every door and every couch on the Slytherin Common Room—"Are you mad, boy?" the painting would say. "I say, you are barbaric! Get out of this Slytherin Common Room!" another painting advised._

_He was glad the Slytherin Common Room was underground._

_No one could hear him. He couldn't hear anyone as well._

_He threw his POTTER STINKS badge away, before picking it up again._

_He couldn't take his mind off the game._

_He waited and waited for the game to finish, or for any sign that it was over._

_Thirty minutes had passed and nothing. He almost gave up and got back to watch when Crabbe went in the Common Room._

_Draco stood up, waiting for Crabbe's news. The both of them were surprised at Draco's abrupt action._

"_Well?" Draco asked, ignoring the silence._

_Crabbe still looked frozen, before examining the room, "What the bloody hell happened?"_

_Draco rolled his eyes, ignoring Crabbe's question. "We have no time for that, Vincent. Now, what happened with the game?" he added. "Is Potter… dead?"_

"_Oh," Crabbe said, ignoring the mess, "Well, you know, it's not yet over."_

_Draco gritted his teeth. "Then why are you here?"_

"_You're one to talk," Crabbe said. "I wanted to use the loo," he explained while getting there._

"_There are plenty of loos on the hallway," Draco said, furious at his friend for messing with his head._

_Crabbe ignored him and peed._

_Draco couldn't take it. He went back out to wait—no, hope for Harry to come back._

_The memory faded and he remembered what was currently happening._

"_What the bloody hell was that?" Pansy asked. "You zoned out for like five minutes!"_

Draco disregarded what Pansy said. He couldn't remember it happening. He shook his head but his eyes were starting to swell. "I don't think he's—"

The wizards started beating drums, blowing trumpets, and summoning other instruments. The music came back.

"There's Potter!" cheered Pansy along with the other Slytherins.

Draco stood to get a better view. He was alive. Everyone started clapping before—

Everyone stood to get a better view.

People started screaming, not in a cheerful way—_far_ from a cheerful way.

The music died, along with every other sound.

Cedric Diggory was lying unconscious. Dead.

Draco smiled. _Harry_ was alive. He didn't care about that Hufflepuff. He was just glad it wasn't Harry.

Pansy threw her badge away, embarrassed and horrified; the Slytherins did the same. Draco shrugged; it was inappropriate to smile, but he couldn't help it.

Harry was still clutching Cedric's body. He was sobbing.

It was unbearable to watch. _You've seen this before, Draco, you've seen him cry in real life, don't act so surprised,_ he told himself.

He closed his eyes.

He knew someone had to die.

"MY SON!" yelled a man, running toward Cedric's dead body. Only then did Harry release Cedric.

_Why are you jealous?_ Draco asked himself angrily. _He's dead you prat, that's why Potter was holding him. You knew this would happen; you watched your father prepare for it._

Draco felt no remorse over Cedric's death.

He was still glad.

_He was always glad it wasn't Harry._

xxx

"At least it's not you," Draco whispered, unaware of his sudden consciousness with reality.

"He's awake," said Kimberly. "We're going to take you to Healer Dean Thomas," she assured Draco who couldn't help but twitch again.

**3.) Stuttering**

Draco shook his head. "I-I d-don't want t-to go," he said. "I-I'm f-fine," he explained, sitting up.

"You're speech is defected," explained one of the Healers, examining him more closely. Her face was sharp and strict, reminding Draco of a younger version of Professor McGonagall. "Don't make it hard for us, you're very ill, sir. I think you should stay here for three days… _at least_."

Draco shook his head. He didn't want to be trapped in this place. If he'd go back to the Manor, he's sure he could stir up a potion that could cure his twitching—_just_ his twitching.

"We don't know who gave you that Draught of Deep Slumber Potion," the Healer continued, "but we'll have them arrested if you tell us." Her expression was very firm. Draco felt insulted at the way she talked about him. "You _must _know who it was, sir. You'd have to be very close with him if he fooled _you_."

She was almost laughing. "Well, I'm not judging, but I advise—"

"I'M FINE!" Draco snapped. He tried to stand up, but his legs refused to hold him, causing him to crumple on the floor.

"You are not," reminded the Healer. "_See?_ You fell."

"I-I j-just—"Draco trailed off, twitching.

Kimberly tried to help him up, but he pushed her away. "I c-can d-do t-this, I'M FINE!" he insisted.

The Other Healer let go of her parchment, causing it to drop on the floor.

"Natasha!" cried Kimberly, surprised.

Natasha ignored her. "Pick that up for me," she told Draco.

Draco looked at her, baffled; didn't she just tell him he was sick?

Draco tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't stop shaking. He looked up at Natasha to be sure if she was serious. She nodded.

"Is this how you treat your patients?" he scorned, but followed.

"Sometimes," Natasha replied. "Only the difficult ones, I suppose."

Draco tried to crawl toward the parchment, but his arms were too weak to support his shoulders. He muttered, "If my father heard about this—"

"Mr. Malfoy, we know who you are," Natasha said, clearly annoyed.

Draco remembered; he was the son of a former Death Eater. He, himself, was a former Death Eater. All the Death Eaters were put to Azkaban after the war, but him.

Harry spared him.

It had been three years since he'd seen Harry in person.

He had been seeing young faces of Harry almost every day because of the Reverberum. This visit in St. Mungo's wasn't going to stop him from returning to Martha Mankin's.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you are indeed well like you claim, I would have gotten my parchment back three minutes ago," said Natasha.

"He might've been hallucinating," Kimberly informed. "Give him time."

"If he is hallucinating right now then he isn't _well_, is he?" Natasha snapped back.

Draco was still on the floor. He couldn't stand up nor could he crawl. The only thing he could do—pathetic as it seemed—was to drag himself toward the parchment, toward Natasha's feet.

It was a struggle, pulling his body. He tried his best to hide the pain that pressed in his palms and his knees. He only wished the floor was clean.

Once he had picked it up, he handed it to Natasha.

"Why are you holding it?" Natasha asked, refusing to take her parchment back.

"I-I'm giving it to you," he explained, his arm shaking with the parchment. "Take it!" he groaned.

Natasha shook her head.

Draco grunted again. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"That's the Muggle way," she explained.

**4. Inability to Do Magic**

One of the known components of Reverberum is unicorn hair. Although Unicorn Hair is used as a magic core for wands, intaking it in the body _represses_ one's ability to do magic.

Draco threw the parchment away from him. He resisted the urge to throw it at Natasha's face.

He took his wand out of his pocket. He hadn't used it in a long time.

He couldn't help but stare at it; it had been Harry's during the war.

Harry Potter never really knew how to say good bye in their last meeting, he supposed it never did matter to Harry whether he'd see Draco again or not.

Well, it shouldn't really, Draco thought. Still, it mattered to him.

xxx

_Draco's hearing was on May 23rd, 1998, twenty-one days after the war._

_Harry Potter was his only witness._

"_Malfo—Draco Malfoy," he started. "He bears the Dark Mark, I know that, but I don't think he deserves to be sent to Azkaban, to be honest. He hadn't done what the Death Eaters had done," he explained, scratching the back of his head._

_He had a hard time speaking. "Good thing Hermione told me to write it down," he explained, showing a parchment from his pocket._

_Harry began reading, "First, he's a minor, obviously._

"_Second, he was under the influence of his father, Lucius Malfoy who was a loyal Death Eater, so, naturally, it wasn't much of a choice?_

"_Finally, he didn't kill anyone during the war nor did he kill Dumbledore."_

_The crowd looked bewildered at Harry's last statement. They didn't know._

_Draco laughed at how short Harry's defence was. _He had to write those three tiny things down?

"_Harry," Kingsley said nicely. "Please elaborate your last statement."_

"_Oh," Harry said. "Right, sorry. You guys didn't know. Well—"_

_Draco almost laughed at how Harry was so relaxed._

"_You see," Harry started. "The reason why Draco bears that Dark Mark was to spare Lucius' death. When Lucius—along with the other Death Eaters—were caught at the Ministry back in 1996, Voldemort was furious. He wanted to kill Lucius, but for some reason, he assigned Draco with a task first. That task was to kill Albus Dumbledore. I think the Dark Mark was a symbol of promise to do that task. If he didn't kill Dumbldore, Draco and his family would die. But he didn't do it. I w-was there," he explained, his voice started shaking. "I saw h-how D-Dumbledore died. Snape w-was the one who k-killed him, not Draco, even if he was the one assigned by Voldemort to do so."_

_Draco looked at Harry. He wanted to ask him, _do you really want to save me?

_Harry nodded back. _Yes.

"_It wasn't in him," Harry explained. "It wasn't in him to kill."_

"_Well," he added. "Snape was actually assigned by Dumbledore to kill him, but—uh, I'm getting off topic here."_

_All this time Draco thought Harry had saved him in the fire because he owed him; Harry owed him for refusing to identify him in the Manor. Saving Draco's life paid that debt._

_Draco realized there was no debt._

_Harry had saved him because, well, he's _Harry_. He's just a hero._

_He's Draco's hero as well._

_That thought scared Draco, because he finally realized why it mattered to him._

_If Harry were to decide, Draco was spared._

_However, his fate was in the hands of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new minister. "We find the defendant, Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater," he started, looking at the parchment, "…guilty."_

"_Kingsley!" Harry said, standing up from his chair. Ron looked bewildered. Hermione looked furious. "Er, I'm sorry. I meant Minister…"_

_Draco almost smiled at the thought of Harry refusing to accept Draco's fate in Azkaban, but Harry had said his words and it was time for Draco to accept it._

_He was guilty._

_Kingsley smiled at Harry. "However," he continued. Draco's eyes began to lit at those words. "The defendant shall be spared from Azkaban, but taken in two years of house arrest in the Manor."_

_Draco heard his mother sigh in relief._

_Harry sat down._

_Kingsley lifted his wand. "Case closed."_

_Narcissa hugged Draco. "I knew it," she said, losing proper posture, but she didn't care. "I knew it! My baby's with me."_

_Draco couldn't resist his mother's love for him. "Are you alright?"_

"_My husband was sent to Azkaban, Draco, what do you think?" she asked questioningly, but smiled. "But you're still with me. That's all that I'm grateful for right now."_

_She kissed him on the forehead even if she couldn't reach his forehead anymore._

_Everyone was starting to leave the room._

"_Potter!" Draco called, thankful for his mother letting him go._

_Harry seemed like he was waiting for him as well._

_Draco didn't know what to say to him. He needed to thank Harry, but words didn't feel right enough._

"_This is yours," Harry said before hurriedly leaving with his friends._

_Draco was looking at his wand. Was it the wand that Harry had used to defeat Voldemort? _His_ wand helped Harry? An overwhelming feeling came rushing in him. He felt like he couldn't stop himself from smiling, but he did._

_Draco didn't want Harry to leave, but he was walking away so quickly. He felt a sudden panic inside himself. He didn't want him to go._

_He was already taking his cloak._

"_THANK YOU!" he said in an accidental scream._

_Ron and Hermione stared at him._

_It angered Draco how they were the ones who seemed dissatisfied with his expression of gratitude. Harry didn't seem to mind._

_But Draco was dissatisfied with himself as well._

"_Thank you," he said more calmly._

_Harry nodded before leaving._

xxx

That was the last time Draco saw him.

In person, that is. Harry's everywhere in the Daily Prophet, the books, the posters and even in Draco's sleep.

Draco tried his best to avoid Knockturn Alley the day he was released from House Arrest. But Knockturn Alley was the only place where no witch or wizard spat at him. And Martha Mankin's shop had a welcoming sign.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Natasha yelled. "You weren't with us. You are clearly hallucinating. You are not well."

"I wasn't hallucinating!" Draco yelled.

He wasn't, this time.

He wished he was.

He wanted the memories to be more vivid. That was a _real _memory. It wasn't altered by the Reverberum. It was his last real memory with Harry.

Draco tried to focus his concentration back on the parchment lying on the ground. He pointed his wand at the lying parchment. "W-wingardium Le-leviosa," he uttered.

The parchment didn't move.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he yelled again, his arm was still shaking.

"One of the effects of Monte Pontente is inability to do magic," explained a young Hermione Granger.

"I n-never perfected t-that spell," Draco replied rather lamely. It was a simple spell, he knew that. "Perhaps this would be b-better."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Lifting his shaking arm, aiming his wand toward the parchment, he yelled, "A-accio parchment."

Nothing happened.

"Accio parchment accio parchment accio parchment!" Draco screamed loudly, frustrated at himself. He groaned before trying again. "Accio parchment accio parchment accio parchm—"

Hermione had had enough and picked up the parchment.

Draco waited for Hermione to send him to Dean Thomas.

He knew Hermione was Natasha.

He knew his hallucinations were coming back.

He anticipated it.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Natasha said, summoning Draco from the floor to the bed. "Don't make this hard for us, Mr. Malfoy. Third floor, Room 312," she told Kimberly.

His bed followed Pansy out of the emergency room.

His hallucinations were back.

oox

_The Slytherin Common Room formed._

"HE WAS THERE!" Harry cried, screaming at Draco. "YOUR FATHER WAS THERE!"

Draco did not know what to say, he felt like his whole body was binded together, keeping him from moving.

"He watched," Harry added, panting heavily.

"HE WATCHED AS HIS MASTER KILLED CEDRIC!" He was traumatized by what he had just witnessed.

"Is Lucius _that_ heartless?" he continued, voice cracking.

Draco seemed scared at the angry boy. He didn't know what to say. He tried to warn him He was coming back, but failed.

"Harry…." he started softly, "I am so so—"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked. He wanted to know.

Draco didn't want to tell him.

"I-I," Draco continued. He didn't know how to tell Harry. He knew he didn't warn him enough. "I-I d-didn't know h-how to tell you."

"So you _knew?_" Harry asked furiously. He was now standing up and ready to leave. "I trusted—I thought it—You said—"he couldn't make up the right words.

Draco knew what Harry wanted to say.

"I'm sorry," Draco started. "Our friendship means a whole lot to me than—"

He tried to touch Harry's shoulder but Harry pushed his arm away.

It hurt.

"Oh," Harry started. The tears continued to flow down his eyes. "…but this lie? It's worth everything. It's worth so much more than our friendship."

Even if Draco knew Harry was right, it _angered _him. It angered Draco how Harry could just tell the truth and disregard their friendship. It may not mean everything, but it meant something more than painful honesty.

"Harry," Draco started again. "Please listen to me," he said, but Harry already was. He just didn't know what to say. He tried to start with the truth, like Harry had, "I tried to tell Crabbe and Goyle to warn you but—"

"OH, PERFECT!" Harry screamed. "I suppose it's fitting for them to break it to me because they're my best mates, right, Draco?"

Draco shook his head. Harry was never fond of Crabbe and Goyle; he only tolerated them for Draco. It wasn't right to drag them into this.

"You've been plotting my death… _Malfoy._"

Malfoy—Harry calling him by his last name angered him.

He wasn't ashamed of being a Malfoy, but for that, Harry hated him. He hated him. He had a blood of a Death Eater.

But he couldn't have been plotting Harry's death. His father was. That had to be different, Draco told himself.

It wasn't.

Draco felt his head throbbing. Everything seemed like it would end very quickly, anything he would say couldn't stop what was happening, what was breaking.

It was already broken.

Draco shut his eyes tight. He tried to utter the same hurtful words, "P-POTTER!" he screamed, feeling pathetic after because it wasn't an insult. He didn't know Harry's father, and even then did he sound like a better man than his. "YOU LISTEN TO ME, OKAY? YOU LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY!" He started screaming. It didn't make him feel better. It made him feel worse. His mouth was already sore, but it got Harry to stop crying.

Harry stared.

"I knew You-Know-Who was coming," Draco said. "I felt his presence lurking inside the Manor before Father confirmed it. That's why I didn't want you to go to the Manor this summer. I didn't want you in danger."

"That wasn't enough to actually tell me why?" Harry snapped.

Draco closed his eyes in exasperation. "Merlin, Harry," he said. "Will you let me finish?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"I was scared about what you would think of me," Draco explained.

"What do you think I think of you now?" Harry asked.

"I was half-hoping you wouldn't survive," Draco wanted to say, but he knew it was horrible. He felt horrible just _thinking_ about it. It wasn't true.

He never wished such thing.

How could he think of that now?

He was disgusted with himself. Would he rather have Harry dead than hate him? He was afraid of Harry finding out; that was it. He delayed telling him until he finally couldn't because well, he already knew. He was afraid of losing a part of Harry once he'd tell him. Only now, he had lost Harry _entirely._

He knew he could never have Harry… that way, now even as a friend.

"I'm a coward prick," Draco finally muttered.

Harry laughed, but he wasn't happy. It sounded like a bark, his laugh. "That's _all_? Well, God!—_Malfoy_, you are so off, _mate_." There he goes again with the bark.

Draco didn't stir. It scared him how easy was it for Harry to call him _Malfoy_ again.

"Well, I'm going out," Harry said when Draco couldn't say anything else. "You better hide from me this coming holiday, Malfoy, because I am going to _kill_ you."

It was an empty warning, Draco knew that. But it still scared Draco how Harry would have the nerve to threaten him.

"_Oh, and if I see Crabbe and Goyle right now, I would already kill them," he added._

xxx

"Mr. Malfoy," muttered Kimberly. "Mr. Malfoy, we're taking you to Healer Thomas," she said. "You better stop crying.

The both of them were already flying to the third floor.

"Can't it be another Healer?" Draco asked. "Dean Thomas and I sort of have a complicated past," he explained. It wasn't really complicated. He hated Dean and Dean hated him. That Mudblood was trapped in the Manor for a long period of time before Harry had showed up to save him.

Draco also didn't want to see someone who he had seen glimpses of in his hallucinations.

Kimberly raised an eyebrow. "He's the only one who is willing to know, sir," she said.

That scared Draco.

"What does he want to know about?" he asked rather defensively.

"What had I been saying in my dreams?" he asked again when Kimberly hadn't been speaking.

"What have you heard?" he asked some more.

Draco's heart started beating rapidly. What did Dean want to know? Had Draco been confessing his love for Harry Potter while he was unconscious?

"Don't worry, sir," Kimberly said. "He's the only one who knows it's really Reverberum and not Monte Pontente. He wouldn't report you to the Ministry."

"Oh," Draco said, relieved.

Still, he wasn't looking forward to discussing his memories with a friend of Harry Potter's. Let alone, a Gryffindor.

xxx

Draco and Kimberly were sitting—well, Draco was lying on the bed—in front of a door that said 312.

It had been ten minutes since their conversation getting there. It had been ten _long_ and _dull_ minutes of awkward silence.

Draco didn't want to go back to his hallucinations. If he wasn't conscious of reality, he might slip something out to Dean and he didn't want Dean to know. _Merlin_, he didn't want anyone to know.

Instead, he obsessively tried to recall what would normally happen after Harry got upset with him. He'd repeated his hallucinations a lot of times, but he couldn't seem to remember what happened. All he knew was that he wanted to be in _that_ life.

"So," Kimberly started, thinking it best to break the silence, "What are you using it for?"

"_Excuse_ me?" Draco asked, surprised.

Kimberly apologized. "I figured I should break the silence or something…"

"Why I use R-reverberum is nob-body's business but m-my own. I w-would never t-tell anyone. Let alone, _you,_" Draco scowled.

Kimberly shrugged. "You're going to," she said.

"I'm sorry, I'm seeing someone else," Draco said.

Now it's Kimberly's turn to scowl. "I wasn't forcing you to tell _me_. You're not even my type, blimey! I'm just trying to be friendly."

"I'm s-sorry," Draco said, insincerely. "I j-just want to g-go back to my damn hallucination!" he growled, thinking about closing his eyes but refusing to. His eyes started twitching again.

"You shouldn't resist it, the twitching," Kimberly informed.

"I kn-know. S-someone already t-told me," Draco said.

"You do realize Dean's going to know, right?" Kimberly said.

Draco shook his head. "I refuse."

Kimberly sighed, "You can't."

"Draco Malfoy," said the painting hung on the door. Dean Thomas was reading a parchment when he opened it. He looked up, smirking. "Couldn't get yourself out of trouble, Malfoy?"

Draco scowled. Dean looked very different, he observed. He was sure he wasn't a hallucination. "Thomas," he said in his way of greeting.

"That's Healer Thomas to you," replied Dean. "Well, don't just float there, come in."

"I would, b-but one of my s-symptoms as you know,_ Healer_ D-Dean, is uncontrollable t-twitching and inability t-to d-do magic," he said, trying to sound smart.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I was talking to the bed."

The bed carried Draco into Dean's office.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are appreciated!**

**PS: The song Draco was hearing is sung by Molly Weasley's favourite singer Celestina Warbeck, so I do not own that.**


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